And Never Leave
by agentpiewinchester
Summary: A collection of oneshots focusing on Sam and Dean at various points in their lives. Other characters will make appearances. There will probably be angst, possible fluff (no wincest), and all a manner of other things.


**a/n:** sam is around 13/14, dean is 17. unexplained angst.

Late one night, Sam wakes up for no apparent reason.

He sits up in bed, looks around the motel room. John is dead to the world on the other bed, snoring loudly. Dean, however, is nowhere to be found. Sam slides quietly out of bed, pads lightly across the room, and goes outside.

Dean is sitting on the curb, hunched over, and his shoulders are shaking. Sam hears him take a ragged breath, one that cracks and dissolves into what sounds almost like a whimper.

It is the first time Sam has ever seen his brother cry.

"Dean?" He says, softly, carefully.

Dean stiffens, and then he looks over his shoulder, his eyes red. His cheeks are wet. He turns away from his little brother, wipes his eyes.

"Go back inside, Sammy." Dean says, roughly, his voice thick. Sam stands for a moment, staring at Dean's back, and then he walks over and sits down on the curb next to his brother.

Dean doesn't look at him.

Sam has seen demons, ghosts, shifters, wendigos, poltergeists, ghouls, vamps, werewolves and an assortment of other monsters, but none of them ever scared him half as much as Dean crying.

It was Dean, after all. Rough, tough, brave, _Dean_.

He didn't cry.

But here he was, sobbing in front of the Impala, head in his hands. Sam reached a tentative hand out to him, his fingertips barely graze his shoulder before Dean jerks away. Sam yanks his hand back. Dean cries, sobs that make his whole body shudder, but he is nearly completely silent, the only sound his shaky, shallow breathing.

Practiced quiet crying, Sam realizes, a little startled.

Dean sucked in a deep, trembling breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Sorry." He muttered gruffly, still not looking at Sam. Sam gingerly touches his shoulder, hoping his comfort would be accepted this time. Dean didn't pull away, but Sam could feel the tension in his shoulder.

"Why are you sorry?" Sam asked, scooting closer to Dean and tightening his grip on his shoulder.

"Just...you know. This shit." Dean mumbled, scraping a hand across his mouth.

Sam has the sudden urge to fling his arms around his brother and hug him tightly. He restrains himself, though, knowing Dean would probably react badly.

"You, um, don't have to apologize." Sam says, studying Dean's face. His eyes are puffy, red from crying, but they are dry now, hard. Not soft and sad and damp like before.

"Fuck." Dean says, softly. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. In this moment, Sam thinks that Dean looks far older than his 17 years.

Sam carefully slides his arm around Dean's shoulders, doing his best to do what Dean has always done for him.

Dean allows it, even leans in a little, but that could just be Sam's imagination.

It feels sort of strange, being the one doing the comforting, rather than the one being comforted.

Dean sighs quietly.

"Back inside now, Sam." Dean tells him after a handful of moments, but makes no move to get up himself. Sam stands, offers a hand to Dean.

"Dean, c'mon." Sam says, hand still out. Dean looks at his hand, looks up at Sam.

He takes Sam's hand, stands up. Sam notices that Dean is barefoot, feet bony and pale against the asphalt.

Dean carefully opens the door, ushers Sam in first, before following silently behind him. John is still snoring, and Sam settles back into the bed, while Dean curls up on the cot.

The next day, Dean's eyes are slightly puffy, but Sam doesn't mention it. John doesn't even notice, or he would say something biting. Dean is grouchy and tense, and he snaps at Sam a lot, but Sam can't seem to muster up any anger for his brother. Not after he saw him so vulnerable last night.

Sam can't forget the look in Dean's eyes.

Later, years later, Sam will remember this night and he will wish Dean still looked the way he did when he was 17. Dean was scared and sad, but he wasn't broken the way he seems to be now. He's not yet shattered, only a little chipped around the edges.


End file.
